This post builds on Monday’s post, even though the warm spring weather that inspired that post headed south again (c’mon mother nature, would you make up your damn mind?). If you read Monday’s post, you might be spending some time today contemplating whether your current fitness routine is serving you. The following is a little something I came up with when I did the same:
Dear Movement (more formally known as exercise),
I have grown to love you. What was once like an arranged marriage has become a complete and total union. This was not always the case. I used to should all over myself in regards to you. Look to you to shrink me down, make me smaller. I came to you out of guilt and fear as opposed to love.
Afraid of who I would become without you, I built a life around you. Uncertain of the extent to which you made me a societally acceptable human female, it seemed plausible to do this just in case. I obsessed over you for all the wrong reasons, not realizing your true potential as a tool for growth.
Through the passing of time and a buttload of experience I now see the truth: you are a gift to be enjoyed, not a force to be reckoned with. When I hold on to you lightly, and not for dear life, your true colors emerge. No longer am I the weary soul who used you solely as an outlet for calories. No longer do I come to you to make my supposed wrongs right. No longer will I slog it out on the freakin’ treadmill instead of rejoicing in dance just because it burns more calories (not that there is anything wrong with the treadmill, done with the right mindset it can be fun too! Just not a personal favorite…)
Exercising out of guilt, fear, or shame sucks. Moving for the love of it is where it’s at.
(And no, this isn’t just a severe case of personal trainer Stockholm syndrome…at least I don’t think so…)
The Joyful Gym Rat (more formally known as Laura)
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Photo credit Mary Ellen Blacker (less formally known as mom)